


Make Me Forget

by Space_Interrobang



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dragon Age Quest: Broken Circle, F/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Voice Kink, Zevran being Zevran, and the aftermath, i have a lot of feelings about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 05:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11097957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Interrobang/pseuds/Space_Interrobang
Summary: Surana had to confront her old life at Kinloch Hold, and it didn't go too well. Tired and beaten down, she seeks the comfort of a friend whose willing to listen and relieve some of the tension with a massage. *wink* *wink*





	Make Me Forget

**Author's Note:**

> I dug this up from the recesses of my phone, and thought it would be a good first story to post here. And Zevran is by far still my favorite Dragon Age companion. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

     It had been months since she'd left the Circle. Returning would be both thrilling and foreboding. She had hated life in that prison; her guilded cage. Except for one factor. Cullen. He was stationed at Kinloch Hold right out of training, a few years after she had had her worst encounter with a Templar. She was absolutely terrified of them. Except Cullen. He had seen her shivering in a corner of the library one day, and offered her a blanket. He seemed nice, so she confided her fears. And he protected her--actually protected her--like a true Templar. He kept others from abusing her as best he was able. He looked at her like she was something gorgeous worth admiring. And as he continued to help her, she grew fond of him. She teased him and flirted with him, enjoying the blush that rose to his cheeks while he stuttered an excuse to go somewhere else. He never tried to advance past casual conversation with her, but rumors couldnt be stopped that they liked eachother. In the Circle, gossip was most everyones favorite passtime. She had entertained the inane fantasy of her and Cullen breaking free of the Circle a few times as she daydreamed of going outside. But even if they did realize the Templars were kept on leashes like mages with their lyrium, Cullen truly believed his purpose was to the Maker. And she did try to escape a few times before Duncan. A charismatic mage named Anders helped her. She was staring out of one of the windows higher up in the tower, probably leaning a little too far to be safe, and he had pulled her back, thinking she was about to jump. The truth was she had thought about it, but on that day she was just so starved for fresh air she lost herself. He was kind and charming, and gentle. A few weeks later they were both in the dungeons for attempting escape. They talked and laughed for the weeks they were down there. He told her how they were threatening to lock him in solitarey confinement if he kept trying to escape. She told him about her family in Lothering, and why she was always so scared when a Templar came near her. They shared the same views on the Circle. They helped eachother. He had easily become her dearest friend. And in her eagerness to go with Duncan to become a Grey Warden, she had'nt gotten the chance to tell either of them goodbye.

     Only when she returned, the Circle was in chaos, and she was forced to fight through old friends and abominations. She prayed to every god she could think of that Cullen and Anders were still alive. If everyone else was taken from her, please let those two live.

     As they continued up, a frightened apprentice told her Anders had used the chaos to escape again, and a giant weight lifted from her chest. But the victory seemed short-lived when she opened one of the last doors and found Cullen. He was trapped in a magical barrier, surrounded by the bodies of his comrades, kneeling on the floor in pain. She ran over, already looking for a way to dispel the barrier, when he spoke.

"This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong..." Her brain clicked the pieces together.

"Cullen, don't you recodnize me?"

"Only too well...how far they must have delved into my thoughts. Enough visions! If anything in you is human...kill me now and stop this game." His voice cracked on the next words. "You broke the others, but I will stay strong, for my sake...for theirs. Sifting through my thoughts...tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have," she knelt down with him at that point. "Using my shame against me...my ill-advised infatuation with her...a mage, of all things." Her heart tore. She knew his feelings toward her would never be acted on. Some mages have affairs with Templars, but Cullen followed the rules implicitly...but shame? He had been ashamed to have feelings toward her? It cut deeper than she would like to admit.

"Someone was quite the little heartbreaker when they were an apprentice. My, my" Zevran commented behind her. She felt her throat tighten, trying not to cry. Cullen continued.

"I am so tired of these cruel jokes...these tricks...these..."

"Cullen, its me. Its really me," She insisted, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

"Silence!" The Templar snapped. "I will not listen to anything you say. Now begone!" He got to his feet, so she did the same. "Still here? But that's always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them." She took a deep breath. There was no time to be sentimental. He needed help.

"Yes, I am still her. I think you should calm down."

"I am beyond caring what you think," he answered harshly. "The Maker knows my sin, and I pray that he will forgive me."

"Your sin? But Cullen, I thought we..."

"When you knew me, I was an innocent. I wanted to be a knight, but I never really thought about why we were needed. Now, my eyes have opened. The naivite I once had is gone forever. But I welcome the change as long as it better helps me serve the Chantry. You are a mage and I, a Templar. It is my duty to oppose you and all you are." He sounded like he was quoting from his 'reasons I shouldnt feel this way' book in his head. The argument still stung, however. She had thought he was different from the other Templars who enjoyed abusing the mages because they were lesser. Because they were taught to fear magic. "Why have you returned to the tower? How have you survived?"

"Greagoir told me what happened; I knew I had to help," she answered truthfully.

"And look what they've done! They deserve to die. Uldred most of all. They caged us like animals...looked for ways to break us. I'm the only one left...they turned some into...monsters. And...there was nothing I could do." She understood that feeling. Feeling helpless.

"Be thankful it wasn't you," she told him with a sigh. It was harsh, but with her past, she learned to be grateful for the small kindnesses in life.

"Don't think I'm not grateful...but why should I live when my friends lie dead, their bodies and spirits broken? And to think, I once thought we were too hard on you." The stinging was back. She felt his words like a slap across her face with a hot iron brand. Cullen was never so cruel before.

"We're not all evil, Cullen."

"Only mages have that much power at their fingertips. Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons. Yes, some fought back...but even they are lost now. Uldred has them. They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there...oh, Maker...he's doing something to them, I can feel it. Something horrible..."

"His hatred of mages is so intense..." Alistair offered. "The memory of his friends' deaths is still fresh in his mind." She nodded to him, grateful. Perhaps. Or perhaps Cullen was never different from the other Templars at all, and he hid it until now, when all his defenses were down.

"You have to end it, now, before it's too late," Cullen pleaded. Was he suggesting an annulment?

"I will not kill an innocent," she told him resolutely.

"Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk? To ensure this horror is ended...to guarantee no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there."

"I'd rather spare maleficarum than risk harming an innocent," she gritted.

"Thank you," Wynne said calmly. "I knew you would make a rational decision."

"Rational?" Cullen replied indignantly. "How is this rational? Do you understand the danger?" Alex clenched her fists by her side, glaring at the Templar who used to be her friend.

"I know full well the dangers of magic," Wynne spoke. "But killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry--"

"You know nothing!" Cullen yelled. "I am thinking about the future of the Circle. Of Fereldan."

"I've made my decision," she told him. He seemed momentarily stunned by her commanding tone, her conviction. She had been meek and quiet when he last saw her. But his surprise boiled into anger again, and he glared back at her.

"Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all."

 

* * *

 

     She sat away from the rest of camp that night, mending her robes. Zevran was the one to come to her first, sitting beside her under the guise of polishing his armor. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up.

"I hear talking about your problems to another person can help your pain. What's going through that gorgeous head of yours?" She smiled briefly, focused on her task.

"The Templars didn't treat mages well in the tower," she began quietly. "But Cullen protected me. Really protected me like a true knight should. I thought he was different. Maybe he was only being cruel because he was being tortured, but I can't get what he said out of my head." The woman sighed. "I knew he liked me. I would tease him about it to see him blush and stutter because mages had affairs with Templars all the time, even with the rules against it. I knew he would never act on his crush because he was so straight-laced...but I never thought he was ashamed to like me." Zevran listened intently, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his breastplate. "He called his infatuation with me a sin." Her voice broke on the last word, so she took a moment to steady herself.

"You do not have to answer, of course, but I happened to notice you flinched away when he mentioned how he used to think Templars were too hard on you. Is there a reason for that?" Zev asked kindly. The woman shifted her robes to mend a different tear by the hem at the bottom. Her shoulders sagged as if weight had been added. Zevran had become a good friend during their travels. She was sure she could trust him. Though, appearently she had been wrong before.

"Cullen knows what the Templars have done to me in the past," she decided to answer, hoping it was vague enough. "That's why he started protecting me more. Having him say what was done to me, and several others in the Circle, was justified? I don't know if I can forgive him for that."

"My Warden," Zevran had stopped cleaning his armor, looking to her. But she refused to look away from her task, hands shaking slightly. "If he is to go back on his word to protect you, then he did not deserve your friendship, or your tears." She pricked her finger with the needle, and jumped, hissing in pain as her blood came to the surface. Zevran reached over and took her hand in both of his, wrapping a part of his tunic around her finger to stop the bleeding. The action made her look up to his face. She could easily heal herself, he knew that. His warm amber eyes held a kindness she had not seen since she was locked in the Circle dungeons with Anders, and her throat tightened again. He lowered his voice. "You don't need protecting anymore, Enaslean." His use of her real name stunned her momentarily. "You are strong, and beautiful, and brave. You are a Grey Warden, feller of darkspawn and archdemons. One young, foolish Templar should not trouble you so."

"Lee," she said a little breathily. Zevran tilted his head in questioning. "My best friend always called me Lee." His gentle smile calmed her nerves. She tightened her fingers around his hand. She thought he might be leaning in to kiss her, but a voice pulled their attention back towards camp.

"Warden, your hound has chewed through another pair of my shoes." It was Leliana. Zevran quickly released her hand and resumed cleaning his armor.

"I'll be there in a moment, Leliana!" she called over her shoulder. She healed the pin-prick on her finger and gathered her supplies. "Zev..." He glanced up to her. "Thank you."

 

* * *

 

 

Later on in the night, after everyone began splitting off to take watch duty or sleep, she approached the assassin.

"Zev?"

"Yes, my Warden?" he grinned charmingly.

"I think I'd like to take you up on your massage offer now, if that's alright."

"Of course. Allow me to gather my things," he answered. He reappeared from his tent a few minutes later, and followed her into her tent. The woman tied the flap shut tightly. Zevran set out a few bottles of what looked like oil to the side and flattened her bedroll while she lifted the tunic from her head. She lied down on her stomach, and he straddled her thighs.

"If I may ask, what made you finally give in?" he questioned. She heard the popping of cork as he opened a bottle of oil. "You didn't seem entirely convinced you would enjoy this when I first asked. I do not wish to do anything you are not comfortable with." The woman smiled to herself. _That's why._

"All of these old pains have made me tense," she answered instead. "I thought you might help."

"I will do my best," he chuckled above her. His finger caught on the back of her breast band. "May I?" She nodded, moving her hair out of the way. He untied it swiftly, and let the sides fall away so that he had nothing blocking his hands from her back. He started at the small of her back, thumbs working into her spine. She shivered. The oil he had poured in his hands was warm, and he seemed to be working that heat into her skin to help her relax.

"What is that stuff?" she moaned softly, stretching beneath him.

"Special Antivan oils," he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice, and that also calmed her. For some reason instead of fearing a knife in the back, she wanted him even closer. Something about his presence helped her. She felt happier around him. "They are made so the heat seeps deep into the muscles and helps loosen them."

"Did I ever tell you about the time I almost escaped the tower?" she decided to ask, wanting for conversation.

"No, I don't believe you have," he humored her. His hands pressed harder into her flesh, moving in fluid, controlled movements as they went up the length of her back.

"It was just a few weeks after I met another mage named Anders. He was the best friend I mentioned who always called me Lee. He was really one of the only friends I had. I think you would like him; he's charming and compassionate, and an incouragable flirt. When we first met, he was just using me to help him escape. He needed someone to flirt with some guards while he snatched the keys to the courtyard, but he was handsome and very good in bed, so I didn't care. When the guard I was flirting with took it too seriously I got scared and backed out. He had gotten the keys thankfully by that point, but then Irving was suspicious, so when we did try to escape we were caught not even a day later." The woman sighed contentedly, remembering that day. "But that was the greatest day of my life up until Duncan came around. It was the first time I had felt grass beneath my feet, water from a stream rushing between my fingers. It was the first time I'd seen the sky without borders from a window. I remember lying in the darkness that night, and feeling the rain begin to fall on my skin..." Zevran was at her shoulder blades then, and she moaned again, wriggling beneath him as the pads of his fingers dug in. "They locked us in adjacent cells in the dungeon for a month, and we became good friends. It turned out we shared the same ideas about how unjust the Circle was. Anders isn't even his real name; it's just a nickname he got because he's from the Anderfels. I think...we understood each others' hardships. I hope he's doing okay."

"Was he not in the tower when we were?"

"One of the apprentices we saved said he used the chaos to escape again. He's probably halfway to Orlais or somewhere right now."

"You do not wish to search for him?"

"If he does not want to be found that is his choice," she answered. "We have other things to focus on, anyway."

"Your shoulders have a lot of tension, my dear Warden," he commented.

"I wonder why," she responded sardonically. He pressed harder, and she wriggled under him again, biting her lip to keep from making noise. "And Zevran?"

"Yes?"

"When we're alone, please, you can call me Lee." After a few moments she said, "Hold on." Zevran immediantly stopped moving his hands, and the woman turned so she was laying on her back. She hooked a finger into the collar of his tunic. "I think it's unfair how I am so bare, and yet you are not." He smirked.

"Allow me to fix this grave injustice immediantly." The assassin pulled the garment over his head and layed it beside her discarded tunic. Her fingers trailed down her stomach, and unlaced her leggings. He stopped her before she could go on. "Are you certain you wish to continue this, Lee?" he asked kindly. Her eyes were dark as she looked at him. Dark tattoos swirled beneath his ribcage, disappearing beneath his breeches and around his sides to his back.

"Yes," she whispered. "I want you to make me forget."

"Forget what?"

"That I'm the Warden. That so many people are depending on my leadership. I just want to be Lee for a while." Her eyes went to his, wanting, pleading silently. "Who knows whether we'll all live through the next week. I want to take pleasure where I can, and I want to do that with you. But you should want me, too." Zevrans bemused laugh was low, and his smile took on an almost predatory look.

"I want this very much, my beauty. Do you always make it a habit of having sex with your friends?"

"Only the extremely charming and handsome ones," she chuckled back. The assassin leaned over, supporting his weight with one hand beside her head. She brought one of her hands up to the side of his face, and closed the distance between them. His lips were soft, and as she licked his bottom lip, he opened his mouth, and she tasted the elfroot he had chewed on earlier. Her other hand went to his back, urging him to press tightly against her body.

     As their kiss grew more heated, Zevran ran his free hand up her side to cup one of her breasts. His mouth broke from hers, traveling down her jaw and throat, licking and biting softly as he went. She could feel him begin to harden through his breeches, and as her fingers ghosted down his back, he shuddered. His mouth journeyed lower still, and he tugged her leggings and smallclothes away. Her breath hitched when she felt him bite her hip.

"What are you doing?" she asked, embarressingly out of breath already.

"You wished me to help you forget," he responded simply, hands coming up her thighs. "Has no one done this for you before?"

"Yes, I just," the woman swallowed her nerves. "Didn't expect you to do so without me asking." If he saw her nervousness he didn't show it. He knelt between her legs and placed a gentle kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"My dear, if you have to ask for a person to bring you this pleasure, you have been sleeping with the wrong people." She smiled and laughed breathily.

"Mages aren't supposed to have affairs; too much of a risk they'll fall in love. The best you get is a quick tryst in some dark corner and hope you don't get too harsh of a beating afterward if you're caught."

"Then I must endeavor to draw out your pleasure as much as possible," he replied, voice low. His mouth went to her center then, tongue going out to lap at her folds. Her head fell back onto her bedroll, fingers tangling in his blonde hair. She struggled to stay quiet. Zevran held her hips down with one hand, while the other moved to work in tandum with his mouth. A choked cry still escaped her throat, and she felt him grin against her. By all rights she shouldn't trust this assassin so much; none of her other companions did. But there was something about him that pulled her to him. He would say it's his clever wit and charming looks, but there was more to him. Just before they arrived at the Circle, he had told her about his last mission. He had lost the woman he loved to misinformation. He thought taking the contract on Alistair and her was going to be the end of his life. But she had spared him. She had spared him because he told her he was sold to the Crows at 7, and raised to kill. She knew what it was like to not have a choice in how you lived your life. When she had brought Zevran back to camp and started talking with him more, he described being with the Crows like a guilded cage; pretty, but confining. A description she had used on more than one occassion about the Circle.

     Then he offered her that massage. Only, from what she had gathered about his stories, he was only doing it as a survival technique. Her chest ached when he asked, remembering their conversation about his past with people. She tried very hard not to think about all the things he's been forced to do, though he only alluded to it. She didn't want to be another name on his list who used him. So she politely rejected, and he left it alone. But now she was using him anyway. She was using him to forget the past.  
Her breathing was getting shallower, fingers tightening in his hair, and he pulled away, a smug look to his face when she whimpered. She consoled herself with the excuse that she did feel affection for him. She truly did. She was happy when he was happy, and she always kept him by her side on missions. She felt her heart flutter when he smiled at her.  
But in that moment, she saw the glassy distance in his normally warm amber eyes, and the guilt clenched around her chest like a vice. He knew he was being used. He knew, and resigned himself to it. She pulled him up her body, lips crashing into his, hungry, passionate. When she pulled away, she pushed on his shoulders. And though the ache between her thighs was begging to be relieved, she sat up, going to her knees.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. Without replying, Lee reached down and unlaced his breeches. He grabbed her hands, stopping her. "You do not have to do that, dulzura."

"I want to," she argued softly, searching his face for his reaction. It was unreadable. Of course; he was trained not to give away what he was thinking. But his grip loosened, so she helped rid him of the rest of his clothing. She tried to be sweet, teasing, savoring every sound she pulled from his throat. His fingers wove into her hair, helping guide her as her mouth moved up and down his length.  
Zevran released a shaky breath, pushing deeper inside her mouth as he allowed himself more pleasure. A part of him was always on guard, ready to strike at an opponent. She was so eager to please him, however, and that had been unexpected. So he let himself relax into her touch just a bit more than he normally would.

     She pulled away before he could find his release, kissing her way up his torso until she settled at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He was already back to caressing her, pulling her closer to him. She nibbled on the point of his ear, and heard him fight back a groan. The air felt hot and sticky suddenly as she became aware of the heat coursing through her body.

"You are so amazing Zevran," she spoke. "I want to feel you inside of me. Do you want that too?" A simple,

"Yes." was all she heard before her back hit the bedroll again, and he was on top of her, surrounding her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He entered her with one smooth roll of his hips, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from alerting the rest of the camp with her loud cry. He went slower than what she expected, drawing out each thrust. When he continued with this pace, peppering her with lazy kisses, her fingers slowly fell away to roam over every inch of skin she could reach.

     It was different from every other time she had been with someone. It wasn't rushed or meaningless. She thought when she originally set out earlier that night that it would be. Zevran would be her perfect distraction from the Wardens and the Templars and everything else fucked up with the world. And in turn she would be his distraction from the Crows and Rinna, and whatever else troubled him that he tried to keep hidden. Yet somehow, when he brought his head up to look at her again, his eyes were like molten gold. They were dark and filled with desire; no longer distant like before. She arched up into him, nails digging into his back.

"I'm so close, please. Talk, touch me, go faster, please anything," she begged. He put his lips to her ear, one hand snaking between them to find her center.

"You enjoy the sound of my voice, do you?" he purred. He sounded like he was straining to hold on as well. But when his voice dropped like that, her mind couldn't focus on anything else. She gasped, nails going deeper as his fingers began circling her clit.

"Yes." Zevran let out a strangled moan, and the erotic sound broke her, waves of ecstacy rolling through her, clouding her mind. He followed after her, biting into her shoulder to muffle the noises pouring from his mouth. She had grown up training herself to be as quiet as possible, however, so even though the pleasure she felt was intense, only heavy breaths and quiet, choked off whimpers escaped her throat.

     Zevran brought them both down from their highs, a sheen of sweat covering them. Lee let her eyes drift shut, content, but gasped when Zevran closed his mouth around one of her nipples. She pulled on his hair lightly to lift his eyes to hers, surprised.

"I am not done with you yet," he told her.

"But--"

"Have you forgotten yet?" She shook her head no, still too out of breath. "Then I have not finished."

 

* * *

 

 

     The woman woke up the next morning with her arm draped over Zevrans chest. Light was just beginning to shine through the canvas of the tent, so she took that as early sunrise. Alistair would be gathering wood to cook breakfast. Leliana would be making her rounds to wake everyone soon. She bolted upright and rushed to put her breastband back on, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. She had never spent the night with someone before. Even if she had wanted to, it was impossible in the Circle. But she hadn't wanted to. She hadn't meant to either. It should have been impossible there, too, considering she was assigned the midnight watch.  
     Zevran moaned softly as his eyes fluttered open, stretching languidly in their tangle of blankets.

"Good morning," he smiled. A brief moment of respite washed through her, pulling at the corners of her mouth as well. He looked beautiful; hair tangled, voice rough, sunlight shining on his tanned skin. The sound of logs crashing outside into the firepit broke her peaceful moment. Her smile fell, and she worked to get dressed. She paused after pulling her tunic over her head, facing the assassin again.

"Last night was...really wonderful. Thank you." Zevran rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, chuckling.

"See? I knew this would happen eventually. I should have warned you right from the moment you refused to kill me. It was inevitable." His light-heartedness helped her stay calm, but it was bittersweet. He was back to putting on his mask. Just like Anders. She could see what would happen next. Her smile then was more forced.

"You're practically a public menace."

"It's true," he sighed. "They used to issue warnings about me at the Antivan border. Ah, the good old days." Zev ran his fingers through his hair. "So, then. As the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor: what now?" She reached for her mage robes and answered meekly,

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Allow me to make it very simple for you, my Grey Warden," he replied sincerely and shrugged. "What comes next is entirely up to you. I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often. I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give."

"What about love?" she asked, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them. To her surprise, though, they did not come out hopeful or even questioning...but cautious. She watched him carefully.

"I was born of a whore and bred as an assassin," he answered. "All I know is of pleasure and death. What room is there in these things for love?" She tried to hold a nuetral expression and opened her mouth to respond when knuckles tapped on her tent flap. Leliana's shadow was outlined.

"Warden? Zevran? Alistair is preparing breakfast. It is time to gather supplies." The woman laughed despite herself.

"Coming, Leliana." She pulled her robes on and grabbed her pack. "Well, there was only a small chance this would stay private. I guess it's a good thing I'm not shy, huh? I'm going to wash up before we head out. Care to join me?"

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I have Zevrans tattoo on my ribcage. Another fun fact: I smooshed the elven words "ena'sal'in" (victory) and "lean" (light, glimmer, shine) together for Enaslean, or something like, "she who shines in victory."  
> -Go find FenxShiral 'Project Elvhen' on here to see more awesome elvish they worked so hard and I love reading their lexicons.


End file.
